


Growing Home

by abyss1826



Series: Finding Family [2]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, DC Extended Universe, Teen Titans - All Media Types
Genre: ADHD, Canon-Typical Violence, Fluff and Angst, Human Trafficking, Injury, Injury Recovery, Nightmares, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Team Bonding, Team as Family, sometimes a family is just a barely legal adult and the two meta teens he found on the street, team origin story
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-12
Updated: 2019-02-28
Packaged: 2019-10-26 17:09:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17750033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/abyss1826/pseuds/abyss1826
Summary: While intercepting a smuggling ship in Bludhaven Nightwing runs into the Ravager, who plans on destroying the weapon being transferred at the docks. Caught off guard by the true nature of the ship's cargo, Dick ends up with a new roommate, and no idea what to do next.





	1. Green

Nightwing waited patiently. It was interesting how still he could be at times, despite his usual hyperactivity. It was a kind of focus. Learned, though most people had never needed teaching. He couldn't afford to lose that focus.

He'd been tipped off the previous week when he heard that someone had paid the docks midnight shift to take a blind eye to the shipment that was meant to arrive.

Trouble. Clearly.

 

He pulled out his escrima sticks at the sound of someone landing elsewhere on the warehouse, standing to take in his surroundings. A woman jumped softly down from the second level of roof; one he recognized vaguely from an old folder of active mercenaries he had read in the cave once before; her identity clear from the orange and gray armor.

“I wondered if I would see you while I was here,” she stated, keeping her voice low enough that it wouldn't travel below them.

“What business do you have here?” Nightwing asked, poised to move in any direction necessary if this lead to a fight.

“Same as you, I would assume,” she said casually.

“What do you have to do with the shipment?” 

“I'm here to destroy it.” She looked at him for a moment. “What do you know about it, anyway? It isn't exactly something that can be traced.”

“Someone paid off the dock workers. That's all I know. Who hired you?” The woman grinned.

“I can't disclose my clientele, but we're both here to keep the weapon out of the hands of the buyer, aren't we?”

“Who's the buyer?” Nightwing asked, figuring he wouldn't argue. Ravager was dangerous, yes, but she wasn't there for him, and she had information he needed.

“A terrorist organization. The ship is from Lumamba, I don't know what exactly it is, but it won't matter soon enough.” She walked passed him, closer to the edge of the roof. “If you aren't willing to work with me, I suggest you take your patrol somewhere else.” He took out his binoculars and looked out in the direction she was staring. The the dark form of the ship came into focus. “It will be docked soon.”

“What's the organization?” Nightwing asked, watching as two black armored trucks parked in the shadow of the dock building.

“Jackal. He hires people to do his dirty work.”

“And your client wants him gone?”

“Something like that,” she said, a light grin in her voice. He watched her closely as Ravager unholstered and checked her guns one by one; loaded, silenced, safety quickly off and on and holstered again, one by one. The sword strapped to her back gleamed. 

Nightwing studied her. Her hair was white and short, an eye on her black and orange mask was blacked out, and he estimated that she would still be a good bit taller than him without the thick soled boots she wore. 

“Is Jackal in Bludhaven?”

“Not as far as I can tell, no.”

“What’s the intel on the people selling?”

“They’re not my concern. Getting rid of whatever Jackal is trying to get his hands on is all I’m here to do.” Nightwing could see the dark shape of the smugglers ship himself, and it seemed the hired men below them could as well. They exited the vans, heavily armed. He counted eight of them.

“You can go, you know,” Ravager said, looking back at him. “I’m sure this isn’t the only crime happening in the city right now.”

“Who’s to say Jackal isn’t going to try and make this a regular thing?” he replied. She tilted her head, and then shrugged and turned away. 

“Your turf, I suppose. Just don’t get in my way.”They watched the ship dock and other armed men exit to talk to the rest. 

“I  _ do _ plan on taking these guys in, you know.”

“If you get to them first, you get to them first,” she said simply. “Do you want to wait until they unload it or go in now?”

“There may be information on the ship.” She nodded.

“Let’s introduce ourselves, then.” Before she drew one of her guns he put a hand on her arm.

“We can sneak in without them seeing us,” he said, pointing out a path along the rooflines. “if we jump in from the boathouse.” 

“Fine.” His plan worked, and they landed silently onto the deck.

“All aboard,” he whispered cheekily, grinning at the annoyed sigh he received.

“Cargo is below decks, in a red freight.” He didn’t ask how she knew, but he followed her, internally thankful that she seemed on board with his stealth plan as they ducked around corners to avoid the crew. “We will have to fight our way out, I hope you know that,” she whispered as they got below.

“I am well aware.” 

 

They found the freight container, guarded by six men. They took down three each, Nightwing grimacing with every silenced headshot that he heard from the other side of the metal walls as he knocked out the others. She had shot through the locks and entered by the time he rounded to the entrance, but she walked back through the doorway just as he was about to go in.

“Is it the wrong one?” he asked, though that was unlikely. Her face was carefully blank.

“We have an unexpected complication with the weapon,” she stated.

“What do you mean?” She turned so that he could go past her. She shined a small light into the dark container, pointed in the far corner. Nightwing’s heart stood still.

“I don’t know what you want to do here.”

Neither did he.

Chains clinked together as the boy raised his hand to shield his eyes from the light.

“I imagine you won’t allow me to terminate him.”

“Of course not!”

“Then what will you do with him?” he thought quickly, staring at the scared boy. He couldn’t be much younger than himself, and judging by his green skin he was probably a meta.

“I can take him with me, somewhere safe.” He approached the kid carefully. “We won’t hurt you, we want to help, but you’ll have to follow really carefully so we can get you out of here,” he said, picking the lock around the boy’s wrist. “What’s your name?” he asked, smiling softly as he worked at the lock on the kid’s ankle.

“Garfield,” the boy croaked.

“Okay, can you walk?” He nodded. “Okay. We’re gonna get you out of here, alright?” he nodded again, taking Nightwing’s hand and being helped to his feet.

“I’ll cover you and take care of the guards,” Ravager told him as they passed.

“Thanks.” She went ahead of them, shooting the men in their way with a mechanic efficiency.

“I’ll draw them away so they don’t see you out in the open. Go.”

Nightwing pulled Garfield behind him, sneaking behind the boat house as Ravager went through her targets. When no one was watching they ran to the warehouse Nightwing had been on earlier that night, where he had hidden his motorcycle.

“Hold on tight to me, okay?”

“Okay.”

The bike started silently, and Nightwing took them to his apartment, mind racing with what he was going to do next. He wasn’t Batman, he didn’t have any safehouses set up, but Garfield needed somewhere to go. He muttered a curse under his breath. The kid was skin and bones, forcing him to be aware of them as he climbed up the fire escape with him clinging to his back. 

“Where are we?” he asked as Dick helped him through the window.

“My apartment. You’ll be safe here.” He locked the window and closed the blinds. When he turned on the living room light he was able to get a better look at Gar, ragged and threadbare. He walked over to the fridge.

“Do you know if you’ve eaten recently?”

“No.” He nodded, grabbing a cup of applesauce and a spoon.

“This should help without making you sick.” While Gar sat at the table Dick went around picking up anything he thought might identify him and shoved them into his room. He leaned his back against his door, staring up at the ceiling.

What now? Could he tell him his identity? Was that something he could risk? Could he find a way to not tell Garfield who he was and live normally? Would he just have to wear his mask all day? He wasn’t in the public eye much in Bludhaven, and hadn’t been in Gotham since he graduated the previous year, but it would still be a risk…. He took a deep breath and dug through his dresser for something Gar could change into. He left his room and put the pile of clothes in the bathroom. Peeking into the main room he saw that Garfield had finished the applesauce.

“The bathroom’s down the hall to the right, you can shower and change into new clothes if you want.” He took the spoon and empty cup so Gar wouldn’t think about it and watched him shuffle warily to the bathroom. Dick changed into a pair of sweats,opting to leave his mask on. His ID lead to Bruce, and he wasn’t going to risk that or ask the man for permission. He sat down at the table to think. It wasn’t as if Batman had considered or consulted him when he told those people who he was. He’d never met them, yet they knew he was Nightwing by association, and Bruce had never asked. Dick grit his teeth. 

He was better than that. He’d give Gar his first name, and keep his mask on. He tucked his hair back behind his ears with a sigh and glanced at the time. 1:30 am. He stood up and got fresh sheets for the guest bedroom. There were two. Friends from school tended to drop by, and they’d all stay over on the days their breaks lined up. The other he kept just in case. Dick glanced at his phone. They hadn’t texted him in a couple of days, but that wasn’t unusual. That never stopped him from worrying, though. 

He wanted Rhonda to move in with him, live where it was safe, where they weren’t at the mercy of a gang she’d been skirting around for the past 12 years of their life, where they could get help.

Neither of them would do it. 

Maybe he could call them in the morning, ask for advice, find out what they thought; whichever one of them answered.

He finished making the bed. Hopefully Garfield would be able to sleep.


	2. Belong To Yourself Again

Dick looked into the hallway when he heard Garfield come out of the bathroom. 

“Feeling better?” he asked.

“Yeah.”

“Good. Do you have any allergies?” The boy walked over and poked his head over Dick’s shoulder, looking at what he was doing at the stove.

“No?”

“Good. Do you like cinnamon?”

“Yeah?”

“Good. Oatmeal’s pretty boring on its own. You can put applesauce in it too, makes it taste like pie.” He grinned. “You can call me Dick, by the way.”

“Is that… your name?”

“Mhm.” The boy leaned against the counter, and Dick notice him wince when his back touched it. “Are you injured?”

“No,” Gar stared at the floor, hands holding on tightly to the counter behind him. “I-I don’t know what it is.” Dick frowned and turned off the stove.

“Can I take a look?” The boy grimaced. “I might be able to help.” Slowly, he nodded, and turned, lifting up the back of the long sleeved shirt Dick had lent him. There was something implanted under his skin. Dick muttered a curse under his breath. “Do you know what it does?” Gar tensed. “Never mind, its fine. I can remove it.”

“Y-you can?”

“I’ll have to disable whatever it does, to make sure it doesn’t react, but yeah.”

Oatmeal forgotten, Dick went to his room and grabbed his laptop and an assortment of other devices just in case.

“What are you doing?” Gar asked, watching Dick spread his work out on the table.

“I’m gonna see if I can latch onto its signal without touching it, it’s probably a tracker at the very least, so I’ll definitely have to shut that down.” He glanced up to see Gar’s wide, panicked eyes. “They won’t find you here,” he assured, “my apartment keeps any unapproved signals from going in or out. It’s a blind spot.”

“Wh… where are we?” he asked eventually as Dick tapped away at the keyboard.

“Bludhaven.”

“Where’s that?” Dick remembered where Ravager had said the ship had come from.

“United States, New Jersey, not too far from Gotham.”

“Oh.” He watched Dick grin to himself.

“Gotcha’,” the older teen muttered, locking onto the signal his shield was blocking. “Now… I can get in.” Gar sat down next to him, looking out to the hallway. 

“Do you live alone?” Dick nodded, trying to open up the device so he could disable the whole thing. He stood up, startling Garfield, and went to the bathroom. The boy stared at the box and bottle of pills he returned with and put on the table. Dick stood in the kitchen staring at the pots in the cabinet he had left open, and Gar stared at him, wondering what he was doing. He filled the electric tea kettle and put it on to boil. Gar watched the masked teen walk back over to the table and dig through the box, pulling out a scalpel and some sort of thin, curved thing that might have been a needle. Dick put them in the kettle. Then he placed a glass of water in front of him, and a small pill. 

“Hopefully this won’t upset your stomach,” Dick said, smiling nervously. “For the pain, I have a topical numbing cream but nothing that works deeper than that, so it’s still gonna hurt when I take that thing out. Sorry.” He picked a small device up off of the table. “Is there anything else in you, that you know about?” Gar shook his head, and he nodded. “I’ll do a scan, just in case, okay?”

“Okay.” He stood still, flinching when the device beeped as Dick passed it over his hip. Other than that moment the scanner remained silent.

“Looks like you’re in the clear, for anything else, at least.” Gar swallowed down his nausea at the idea that there could have been something else. “Okay….” he heard Dick mutter. He went over into what functioned as the living room and pushed the notebooks, folders and textbook off of the coffee table, putting a throw blanket down on it. “This should be fine.”

“Are you sure you know what you’re doing?”

“I’ve stitched myself up enough times before,” he shrugged, walking quickly back to the kitchen and pouring the boiling water from the kettle, laying down some paper towels when he realized there weren’t any yet, and shaking the now-sanitized tools out to dry on them. Once they were cool enough to touch, he wiped them down with rubbing alcohol. Gar noticed him chuckling to himself.

“What is it?”

“Hm? Oh, nothing, just remembered something.” He took the box and the tools to the couch and then went back to the table, typing something on the laptop. He watched the screen for a moment, tying his hair back to make sure it wouldn't fall in his face. “Okay. Should be off now. You can lay down on your stomach, I’ll try to keep this quick and easy.”

“Don't be too quick…”

“I know what I'm doing.” Gar nodded and got onto the coffee table, shirt pulled up to his chest and arms tucked under himself. Dick pulled some disposable gloves out of the first aid kit and he squeezed his eyes shut. The numbing cream was cold, and Dick taped some pads of gauze around the dark shape of the tracker so he wouldn't have to take the time to keep stopping and soaking up blood, whichever direction it was going to run.

Feeling the latex gloves against his skin was almost worse than being sliced open. He bit his tongue and tried to keep his breathing even to make sure he didn't move and make Dick's job more difficult.

“It's gonna pull,” Dick warned softly. The feeling tore a pained whine from his throat. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry I’m sorry,” Dick repeated even after Gar had felt the thing pull free from his skin and a piece of gauze pressed over the new hole in his back. “I just need to suture it now,” he said quietly. “It’ll be over soon.”

And it was. He was sewn shut and bandaged up. Dick let him lay there while he cleaned up, putting the device in a plastic bag to examine later. He went to the bathroom and cleaned up the blood, putting the first aid kit under the sink. He glanced at the time on his phone. 2:03. He took his hair down, letting it fall down to his shoulders. Alfred would chastise him for not caring to cut it himself. Bruce would call it a safety hazard. Barbara would take his side though, he’d never made her cut her hair when she was Batgirl. He wondered if he should call her. Not right then, obviously; even if she was awake her roommate wouldn’t appreciate it.  _ Later _ , he thought, hearing the floor creak. He’d call her later.


	3. Away from Your Fathers' Shadow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dick's first morning with Gar, and Ravager has a proposition to make.

Dick didn’t wake up until around noon. He checked in the main room for Gar, and went to they boy’s room when he didn’t find him. 

“You alright?” he called, knocking softly on the door. No response. He cracked the door open with a frown. “Gar?” There didn’t seem to be anyone in the bed. He turned the light on and walked in to investigate. There hadn’t been any indication that Garfield had left. “Are you in here?” he called. He heard something rustle in the sheets and looked behind him. A small lump had formed under the covers and seemed to be having a difficult time getting out of them. Dick walked over and picked up the comforter to reveal the clothes he had lent, empty of the boy he had lent them to. Seemingly. 

Until a cat poked its head out of a pant leg. 

Dick stared at it, face blank with surprise.

“Gar?” The green cat wormed its way out into the open and stretched, a patch of fur messed up on it’s side near its tail. The cat sat down and stared at him. “You’re a cat,” Dick stated. Gar looked down at himself as though he was just noticing, meowing loudly. Suddenly it contorted, bones snapping and reshaping, skin splitting and growing back over new ligaments. Dick stepped back, looking away as the sight made his stomach turn. The noise stopped.

“Sorry… I guess I changed in my sleep,” Gar apologized awkwardly, poking his head out from under the blanket Dick had dropped.

“Is that normal for you?”

“Uh… yeah, pretty much.” Gar ran his hand through his hair nervously. “I can shape shift into animals. The… thing in my back stopped it from happening, though. Haven’t changed by accident in a while...” Dick nodded, averting his eyes while Gar put his clothes back on.

“Did you sleep alright, at least?” Gar shrugged.

“Kind of.”

“If there’s anything you think would help you sleep, tell me, okay? I have a few things that might help.”

“Thanks.” They lapsed into silence for a moment while Dick thought. “Why are you still wearing your mask?” Gar asked quietly. Dick looked back at him.

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “It isn’t safe for you to know my identity, but… you probably wouldn’t just from seeing my face anyway. It’s still a risk, with Batman and everything.” Gar stared at him. “Have you even heard of him?” he chuckled.

“I’ve moved around Africa with my parents since I was a toddler, so…. Gotham’s crazy didn’t get into our news that often.” Dick laughed, the suddenness of the noise startling him. 

“I’m glad,” he said with a wide grin, taking off his mask and tucking his hair out of his face. “Wasn’t too sure how this thing was gonna work out on the long term.” That made Garfield smile.

“Did you work with Batman?” he asked, curious. Dick’s smile faltered for a moment, and Gar regretted his question.

“For a while, yeah. We don’t really keep in touch anymore.” Gar knew better than to push for more information. Dick stuck his mask in the pocket of his hoodie and moved his face back into an easy smile. “We should have breakfast. Do you like eggs? You should have some protein.”

“Sure.” 

 

They worked together in the kitchen; Dick cutting and frying some onion, Gar grating cheese. Dick tossed the onions into the scrambled eggs and added the cheese once they were cooked. Dick put a forkful into his mouth and wrinkled his nose.

“Onions are a little crunchy….” Gar frowned before he got a slice of one himself and understood. Dick saw his face scrunch up at the scorched taste. “Sorry….”

“It’s food,” Gar shrugged, not wanting him to feel guilty.

“It’s food,” he repeated in agreement. 

 

Before going on patrol that night, Dick gave Garfield a communicator. 

“You can radio me at this frequency if anything happens,” he assured. “Don’t stay up too late, alright? You don’t need to wait for me to come back.”

“Okay.” 

With that discussion over with, Nightwing swung out into the city. He hoped that Gar wouldn’t feel the need to stay up until he returned every night; like he had with Bruce whenever he was benched as a kid. Keeping himself awake until he heard the man collapse into his bed across the hall whenever he judged a mission to be too dangerous for Robin to join him. He hated when Bruce did that. He was old enough to understand now that some situations forced even Batman to make the sane decision to keep his young partner out of harms way, but he wasn’t a kid anymore, and with Gotham as it was Batman’s executive decisions quickly stopped benefiting either of them. 

He had apprehended several muggings by the time he got around to his goal for that night. Nightwing perched in the shadow of a taller building, making notes into his computer about the target. Mapping out Penguin’s weapons caches was a pain in the ass, but he wanted to know them all before he took serious action. Though he had stopped shipments from leaving Bludhaven many times already, the caches were a different issue. Nightwing wanted to take them down as efficiently as possible, without giving Cobblepot time to re enforce or relocate his stock. If he worked quickly enough the man would have no time to be on his guard. 

Again, he heard the light footsteps of someone joining him on the roof. 

“Is the kid still with you?” The Ravager asked as he turned to face her. He nodded. “I found some intel on him I thought you should have.” She tossed him a small USB, which he pocketed.

“Is Jackal going to come after him?” Ravager leaned against the brick wall, arms folded.

“It’s possible. If I find anything concrete, I’ll know where to find you.” Nightwing frowned.

“Why are you bothering with him? You kept Jackal from getting the shipment, isn’t your assignment done?” 

“My issue with Jackal isn’t an assignment,” the woman sighed, staring up into the cloudy sky, “it’s personal.” Nightwing studied her. She looked back at him. “It’s personal to you, too, if you want that kid safe.” Nightwing looked back to the building he was studying, typing down a note when he saw that the guards had changed.

“I’m not so sure we’d keep from having any conflicts of interest.”

“Well…” he could hear the smile on the edge of her voice, “as far as I can tell from your local underground, neither of us have worked with our fathers for a few years now.”

“ _ He’s  _ **_not_ ** _ my father _ ,” he spat, shooting a glare over his shoulder. He could tell as she raised her eyebrows at him, even beneath her mask. He grit his teeth, looking away again. 

“Then our  _ mentors _ ,” she said slowly, “should have no bearing on your decision, should they?” He remained silent. “I want to take down Jackal and his organisation. Garfield Logan’s safety won’t be completely secured until his attempted buyers have been neutralized. Forming an alliance against Jackal is beneficial to the both of us, and because of neither of us associate with Deathstroke or Batman any longer we should have nothing to worry about. When it’s over things can return to a neutral territory.” She quit leaning against the wall in favor of taking a step closer to him. “No names, no secrets. Just business.” 

The white noise of late night traffic was the only background as Nightwing stared at her, regarding her offer. After much longer than what would make a normal person uncomfortable, Ravager held out her hand.

“Deal?” He gave her a lopsided grin and hooked his pinky with hers.

“Deal.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yo if you're a regular reader you probably know about my sideblog on tumblr and how I make shitpost content about the fics I'm working on/draw OCs like Rhonda/Parker.  
> I drew a meme.  
> Check it out.  
> https://smallest-letters.tumblr.com/post/182861566287
> 
> Please comment with your thoughts by the way! I'm really interested in what you guys think about where I'm taking this <3


	4. A Day Home

Gar jerked awake, struggling under the force of the water, he couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t breathe he couldn’t breathe. His body felt tight, crushing. He wanted the feeling to stop. He had to make it stop. He didn’t realize he was shifting back into a human until the blanket thudded to the floor. He rolled over onto his back and panted, staring at the ceiling. The water was still rushing. Coming out of the daze of panic he realized why, and turned over to fumble with the noise machine. Rivers had been calming, before. He thought….

It didn’t matter what he had thought. Maybe Dick could help him find other white noise loops to add to the machine. The static options were all too similar to listening to the forced air in the lab. Thunder made him antsy. Hearing the rain forest without the feeling of being there was too… weird. Gar stared at the speaker on the nightstand. 

He’d figure something out.

He rolled over and hauled the weighted blanket Dick had offered him up from the floor. He wasn’t sure if it had worked well for him or not; if the feeling of drowning had only happened because of the noise or if he would wake up to it regardless. Dick  _ had _ said that it didn’t work for everyone, but Gar felt like he should try it again anyway. 

He sat up and looked at the time. It was almost seven in the morning. He couldn’t hear Dick moving around the apartment, though other tenants were up and about. Trisha was getting her boys ready for school above them, Zion complaining about his older brother taking up the bathroom. He grinned to himself. Dick had babysat for them a couple of nights that Trisha had to work and extra shift, when their usual sitter flaked out on her. Tye had run down to Dick’s apartment yesterday after school, excitedly brandishing the math test he had helped him study for. He’d gotten a B+.

Gar got out of bed and put on a new shirt. He expected Dick to be asleep in his room, but he wasn’t. Instead, he found him passed out at the kitchen table with his laptop and a few books. He read the titles, the paperbacks having closed on their own without anyone keeping their place.  _ Moby Dick _ and  _ The Scarlet Letter _ . He wasn’t sure what the connection was, and based on the essay diagram drawn out on notebook paper taped to a textbook in handwriting that did  _ not  _ resemble English, Dick probably didn’t either. Gar figured he should let the man sleep.

He walked into the kitchen and poured himself a bowl of cereal, munching quietly on whatever colorful and sugar filled ‘breakfast food’ Dick had gotten. Gar hadn’t checked to see what it was. He put the bowl and spoon in the dishwasher when he was done, glancing back at the table to make sure he wasn’t making too much noise. Dick hadn’t moved, but Gar began to wonder if he should wake him up just to get him to sleep somewhere else. He decided to shower.

Luckily for someone, Dick was awake and pacing around the table by the time Gar was out of the bathroom. Gar stood in the hallway and watched, Dick not seeming to notice him. He cleared his throat.

“Whatcha doin’?”Gar asked. Dick stopped dead in his tracks, one hand tangled in his hair, the other holding  _ The Scarlet Letter _ .

“I dunno.” Gar frowned.

“Are you writing an essay?”

“Yeah.” Dick started pacing again.

“Are you comparing those two?” he asked, pointing out the other book on the table. Dick stopped again and stared at it.

“I don’t know why that one’s out here,” he admitted. 

“Then what are you doing?”

“Pearl is the forgiving God and Chillingworth is the wrathful one Puritans preached.” There was a pause, then Dick looked at him. “And Arthur’s just a wimp.”

“Okay.”

“That’s a thesis, right? That makes sense?” Gar wasn’t sure if the desperation in Dick’s voice was more funny or concerning. 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” the boy replied honestly. 

Dick threw the book to the ground where it went skidding beneath the couch, and then lay face down on the floor. Gar crouched down next to him.

“Are you okay?”

“No.”

“Maybe… you should get some sleep?” Dick mumbled noncommittally. “Like… in bed, where sleeping is meant to be done…” Gar continued. Dick rolled over onto his back.

“But I have to get it done.”

“When is it due?”

“Can’t remember.”

“Hm. Maybe you’ll be better at remembering after you get some sleep.” Dick rubbed at his eyes.

“Maybe.” Gar watched as the man (though he was beginning to question how much older than him Dick really was) stood up and walked toward his room. For a moment he thought he saw a dark shape phase out of Dick’s shadow and dart under the table, but when he looked nothing was there. “Wake me up if anything happens, okay?” Dick told him.

“Okay.”

 

Nothing eventful happened at the apartment for the rest of the day, but Gar didn’t stop checking under the table, unable to shake the chill feeling of being watched.


	5. Blue

It had been five nights since Dick had found Garfield, and, apparently, the universe considered that a long enough break between life changing events to throw Dick’s way. 

The second event came in the form of a blue cloak and the confusion that came with a group of thugs being accosted by the apparent resident of the derelict condo Nightwing was chasing them through. 

The translucent black bubble around the figure standing ominously in the room was dispelled once the last of the men were rendered unconscious, leaving Nightwing alone with them. He couldn’t see any face beneath the hood. 

“Are you alright?” he asked eventually. Gray hands reached up to pull back the hood, and their form flickered with the black energy from earlier. Standing before him was pale girl who couldn’t be much more than a freshman, in a blue hoodie and jeans. Her ice-chip eyes stood stark against a short bob of black hair.

“I’m fine.”

“The police will be in here any minute,” he stated as the sirens drew closer, “we should go.” The girl nodded, but didn’t move. He took it as a sign that she was planning on following him, and he was right. When they were far enough away, he stopped, and she stopped next to him.  “It’s pretty late, if you have somewhere safe I can walk you home, or I know a youth shelter nearby that’s… actually what it claims to be.” He gave her a light smile, but she just shook her head. “What were you doing back there?” he decided. 

“Waiting for you.”

“Hm.” That was one he didn’t know how to respond to, other than reevaluating his surroundings for a possible trap. She looked him in the eye with an almost passively blank expression.

“Something is going to happen, and I’m going to need your help to fix it. I just don’t know when.” Twice in as many minutes now, Nightwing had been thrown for a loop.

“And how do you know that?” Her gaze was piercing.

“You’re the boy who flies.”

 

Gar rubbed his eyes. He knew he was only supposed to be checking Dick’s paper for any moments where he lapsed out of English (and he could tell how tired the guy had been while writing based on the frequency of unintelligible paragraphs,) but it was hard to read an analysis on a book he’d never read.

It was also hard to read a book full of scrawling annotations that probably would have been helpful, if there had been more than just a few english words thrown around each, highly colorful sentence. 

Luckily, things like Shmoop and Sparknotes existed, so eventually Gar was able to grasp the point Dick was making in the parts he could read.

_ “I would ask Barb to proofread for me, but she’s in her own classes so I don’t want to bother her,” _ Dick had said when he spun his laptop the boys direction.  _ “It’s a bit hard to notice when I switch while I proofread because it all still makes sense to me, so I’ve always needed someone else to look over my papers.” _

Luckily for Dick, Gar’s fluency in Swahili did not overlap with any of his own, so he wouldn’t overlook anything the way Barbara sometimes did with Spanish.

He dragged the cursor over another sentence and highlighted it, jumping in surprise when the small watch Dick had put together for him began to beep softly. He pressed the side button.

“Are you okay?” he asked quickly, cutting off whatever Dick had started to say.

“Uh-yeah, yeah I’m fine. Cutting patrol short tonight, just thought I’d call in in case you weren’t asleep yet so you wouldn’t freak out hearing someone come in.”

“Oh. Thanks. What happened?”

“Uhhhh….” Dick’s voice faded away from the com, probably looking at something. “Found someone. I think she’ll be staying with us.” Gar frowned.

“Found her… like you found me?”

“Not  _ exactly _ … I’m almost home, catch you up when I see you. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“See you soon, bye.”

“Bye.”

Gar took his wrist away from his face, running the hand through his hair instead. It was short again. Dick had gone out and gotten an electric clipper set when he saw Gar struggling to keep his shaggy bangs out of his eyes two days before. He asked Dick why he didn’t cut his own hair, and Dick had shrugged. He didn’t care for the upkeep it took to keep short hair looking good. He had more important things to do.

His ears perked up when he heard the window open. He pushed his chair out and looked over into the living room as Dick climbed through the window. The man smiled and gave him a quick wave before he turned back around to help the girl he had mentioned through. They stared at one another while Dick closed the window and reactivated the locks. Her gaze made Gar’s hair stand on end.

“Gar, this is Rachel, Rachel, that’s Gar,” Dick introduced. “And you can call me Dick.” Rachel nodded, as if she had already known. It unnerved him. “So there’s a few ground rules we’ve worked out,” Dick started, peeling off his mask. “One: Don’t let the neighbors see or hear you. The landlord doesn’t live here and honestly doesn’t do much to begin with, but I’d like to keep this on the down-low. Two is don’t go in my room. Don’t go into each others rooms without permission, either. Three is, uh, there’s a grocery list on the fridge that you can add stuff to. Don’t answer the door, either, just get me and stay in your room until they’re gone.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “I’m pretty sure that’s it?” He looked at Gar for confirmation, so he nodded. Dick nodded back with a grin. “So, your room will be over here….”

Gar watched him walk away with her, unsure what to think other than that they were lucky Dick’s apartment was too big for him. He rubbed at his eyes again. It was pretty late. Or very, very early, depending on the outlook. He should start heading to bed before Dick said anything. The cold feeling of being watched from the previous day returned. When he stood he looked up to see Rachel standing in the hallway, Dick having gone into his room to change.

“Hi,” he said awkwardly, looking at her. She had her hood up with her hands stuffed in the pockets of her unzipped hoodie, and was wearing some kind of black turtleneck under it that seemed to be tucked into her jeans. 

“Hi,” she replied. Gar looked down at the table for a moment before deciding on something to say.

“Where are you from?”

“Indiana.”

“Cool.”

Dick came out of his room and found them standing awkwardly.

“You kids playing nice?” he asked, eyebrows raised.

“Yes,” Rachel answered. 

“Good. You should get ready for bed, it’s late.” He patted her shoulder as he walked passed. “Don’t fight over the bathroom.”

Gar let her get ready first, opting to stay in the main room with Dick a little longer.

“So, how did you…?” he asked, trailing off as he watched Dick pour froot loops into a carton of yogurt.

“She was just in an old condo building some guys I was chasing went through. She’s got powers, like you. She has no family she can go to, and…. She said she needed my help.” Dick shrugged, crunching down on his snack. The cereal was beginning to dye its white medium an unsettling array of colors. Gar decided to quit staring at it and changed the subject.

“So I highlighted all the… not English,” he stated, putting the laptop on the counter in front of him. Dick sighed as he scrolled through the doc.

“Thanks.” Gar nodded, looking over when he heard Rachel come out of the bathroom.

“You should sleep too,” he said as he stepped back from the little island outcrop that kept the kitchen from the rest of the main room like a dinky bar counter.

“I should do a lot of things,” Dick muttered.

“Seriously, dude.” Dick looked up at him.

“I will, don’t worry.” Gar started to walk toward the bathroom and then turned around.

“If I find you still awake or sleeping at the table tomorrow, I’ll never trust your word again.” Dick suppressed a laugh behind his hand.

“I’ll keep that in mind.”


	6. Old Friends, Older Siblings

Rachel sat cross legged on the floor of the room she had been given, and focused. She had never sent her soul-self so far away before, but she wasn’t unwilling to try. At best, she would be successful. At worst, she would feel sick for a few hours. 

Luckily, two years had been long enough for her to form a connection with the place, and it was not difficult to return to the house she and her mother had lived in. Step one had worked, step two as well, as she picked up a few belongings from her room. Step three.

She caught the candle, but the leather bound tome thudded to the floor. She heard the door to Dick’s room open and winced as he ran in.

“Are you okay?!”

“I’m fine. I only dropped something.” He looked at the floor around her. She felt as if he was going to ask her about it, so she opened her mouth to say something else.

“Just be more careful, okay? It’d be bad to wake up the neighbors.” He gave her a soft smile and then left, quietly closing the door behind him. She stared at it. Why hadn’t he asked? It didn’t make sense to her. She glanced outside. It was morning. Her second morning since she had found him. 

Correction; her second morning since she had been found by him.

She closed her eyes again.

 

Gar sat at the table, watching the news while he ate his toast. 

“The recent turf war between The Joker and Two Face erupted in violence late last night,” the news anchor stated. “Here is our reporter Camia on the scene now. Camia?”

“Thanks James.” Police cars blocked off the street behind the woman. Firemen and officers milled about, talking to each other. The air looked hazy, and the reporters eyes looked irritated. “So estimated around one this morning there was an attack on what had seemed to be just a local business; a small hole-in-the-wall restaurant. Known mostly locally, the Polish diner now seems to have been a front for the gang run by infamous criminal Two Face. Witnesses say that members of The Joker’s gang threw molotovs into the building-” Gar jumped at a crash in the kitchen behind him. Dick ran into his room. “-It is unknown if anyone lived in the apartment above the business, but firemen report signs of occupation. No survivors were found at the scene, and no bodies have been recovered.”

“Dick?” Gar called, standing up. Peering over his side of the counter he saw the man’s cereal bowl broken on the floor, milk crawling toward the stove. The teen climbed onto the counter and scrambled for the paper towels, bunching them up and tossing them down to the spill. When he’d covered it the best he could without stepping on shards of bowl we went into the hallway. “Dick?” His hand hovered over the doorknob. They weren’t supposed to go into his room. The door opened, making him jump again. Dick stood in front of him, one hand tangled in his hair, the other holding his phone to his ear. “What happened?”

“They’re not picking up.”

“Who’s not picking up?” Gar asked, letting Dick past him.

“Neither of them.” Rachel came out of her room and stood next to Gar, the two of them watching Dick pace circles around the coffee table.

“What made him cry?” she asked in the oddly monotonous tone Gar wasn’t getting used to. He looked at her with a frown.

“He’s not crying.” He looked at the man again. His face was stern, but not upset looking. Gar looked back at Rachel, surprised to see an expression on her face. She seemed confused.

“He feels like he’s crying,” she stated. “My mistake.” They watched him do another few laps of the table before he threw his phone at the couch, sticking it upright between the seat cushions. He put his face in his hands.

“Are you alright?” Gar asked carefully. Dick looked at the television. They were reporting the weather. 

“I have friends living there, they’re not picking up their phone.” Rachel had to steel herself against the emotions and memories flowing off of him. No one person had ever taxed her shields to such an extent.   
“Well, they didn’t find any bodies in the fire,” Gar informed.

“Doesn’t mean they aren’t dead somewhere else,” Rachel muttered.

“Exactly,” Dick agreed. He had begun to pace around again when he caught sight of the mess in the kitchen. Dick swore. Or Gar assumed he did, it wasn’t a word he recognized, but the tone was right for it to have been a swear. He watched anxiously as Dick tiptoed barefoot around broken ceramic and grabbed the trash bin, picking up the larger sections and tossing them in the bag. Gar looked back at the TV as they changed from the weather to a story about a charity gala held by a celebrity he wasn’t familiar with. Wayne seemed to be a big name where they were, though, so close to Gotham at least. Feeling a spike of irritation from Dick, Rachel muted it and floated some debris to the trash. 

“I can’t even go out and look for her because I don’t know where they’d be!” Dick exclaimed eventually, startling Gar. “And what if she’s trying to get  _ here _ ?!” Gar watched the young man flop backwards over the back of the couch with an angry groan.

“It may be best to wait,” Rachel noted. Dick put his hands over his face.

“Yeah…” They stood quietly for a bit, watching Dick and unsure what to do.

Then there was an odd scratching noise from the front door. Dick peeked out from between his fingers, glancing at Rachel.

“Someone’s trying to pick your locks,” she stated, sensing the person on the other side. Dick, despite his legs being thrown over the back of the couch, popped himself over in a quick motion that nearly sent him crashing into the dining table, and ran to the door. Rachel and Gar didn’t have time to hide before he threw it open. Gar let out a confused laugh when he saw past Dick. Someone with a brown curly ponytail in a large denim jacket was crouched with one knee on the floor of the hallway, a lock picking kit in their lap, staring wide-eyed up at Dick.

“What’s up?” For a moment, Dick didn’t respond. Then he pulled them up from the ground in a crushing, tearful embrace.

“Parker, you dumbass,” he laughed.

“That’s me alright.”

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are my lifeblood!


End file.
